


I've got Hunter's Blood in my veins

by smartravenclaws



Series: VEINS Series [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brother-Sister Relationships, Gen, Sister - Freeform, Sister!winchester, Tags Are Hard, Winchester Sister, full of sarcasm, full winchester, i don't know these tags are full of spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-04
Updated: 2018-09-12
Packaged: 2019-01-08 20:39:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12261660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smartravenclaws/pseuds/smartravenclaws
Summary: "Stay here""No way! I'm not letting you have all the fun!"Harry Stewart comes flying into the Winchester Brothers lives, destroying everything they knew about their family, and the yellow-eyed demon they defeated so long ago.How will the Brothers deal with a moody teenager that wants to hunt and sleep at the same time? And how will they react when her secret is revealed...





	1. The First 5 Minutes

_Let's just pretend that  Season 13 is not canon in this story._

 

_Third Person POV_

_~October 2017~_

****

Sam and Dean crept around the old and creaky abandoned house with guns in their hands. Dean stopped Sam as he looked around the corner of the hallway's intersection. After finding that it was clear, he motioned for Sam to follow him around the corner.

 

They avoided creaky floorboards and the occasional missing floorboard. Sam's duffel bag full of different kinds of weapons hit Dean in the back, and Dean glared at his brother.

 

"Really? Man come on." he groaned, quickly covering his mouth, as it was not as quiet as he had hoped.

 

Just as they were about to take a right turn down another hallway, they heard the unmistakable sound of skin slapping skin.

 

"Please," they heard a voice whimper.

 

"You wouldn't be here right now if you had of gotten yourself here months ago!" another voice shrieked, probably louder than they had hoped.

 

Dean looked back to Sam, and Sam pointed to a door slightly to the left of the hallway's intersection.

 

Nodding at Sam, Dean quietly walked to the door and opened a tiny crack.

 

Thankfully, it did not creak, and as far as they could tell, the things inside didn't know they were there.

 

Dean peeked through the small gap to try and get a glimpse of whatever was inside.

 

"What is it?" Sam asked when Dean stopped looking. He was confused.

 

"Dean?"

 

"Shutupimtryingtothink" Dean snapped quietly and quickly. He got out of the way to let Sam look.

 

"What do you think? Men of Letters or Demon?" Dean questioned Sam. What was inside looked Human, and there were no signs of spirit or ghost. And Dean knew that spirits don't torture the way this son of a bitch clearly was.

 

"I don't know man, it could be either."

 

"We better pocket some holy water just in case"

 

Dean rifled through the duffel bag and found two flasks of holy water. Pocketing one and handing Sam the other, he took his gun out of his pocket and kicked open the door.

 


	2. Going Back

_Third Person POV_

_~12 Hours Ago~_

 

“You’ve been drinking even more – if that is even possible. You keep saying that you’re fine but I can see you’re not!” Sam controlled his voice. He was genuinely concerned for his brother.

 

“For the last time, Sammy. I’m fine. Just let it go, and we’ll get on with finding another case” Dean replied, not wanting to get into a bigger fight with his little brother.

 

“Dean,” Sam softened his voice. “You never gave yourself time to mourn Cas, and now that Jack is gone…”

 

Dean slammed his fist on the table in anger. “Dammit, Sam.”

 

“Dean it wasn’t your fault!”

 

“Sam I said let it go.”

 

“Dean!” Sam's voice was stern now, but still full of worry.

 

Dean walked out of the motel room and slammed it behind him. Sam knew he was on his way to a bar. Dean hadn’t been the same since Castiel died five months ago. He had waited and tried to stop Sam from organising a hunter’s funeral, but it took too long for him to come back.

 

And he never did.

 

Then there was Jack. The Spawn Of Lucifer. Kelly had thought right when she claimed Jack had good in him. But, he was so clueless when they found him, but wise in other ways. In fact, he reminded the brothers of Castiel when they first met him, and that was painful for Dean.

 

But then they lost Jack to an exploding Leviathan about a month or two ago, and of course, Dean blamed himself. They knew this time that Jack had gone to purgatory, where all the monsters went. Jack surely had a target on his chest, and Dean was convinced he was dead.

 

The brothers had trained Jack. Taught him to use his powers. Made sure he stayed good. Showed him Humanity. So Jack became a warrior of sorts, and he helped the Brothers defeat many monsters – and Leviathan.

 

Except, of course, that fateful day where the threesome wasn't as careful, and Jack was dragged to Purgatory with it. And people had already gone after Jack, being the Son of Lucifer, so Dean was convinced he had been killed.

 

Sam, however, had faith in Jack. He even spent months looking for another way out of purgatory, because what if Jack couldn’t find the door? And there was no point in trying to get himself in purgatory: Dean would never allow it.

 

So the brothers hunted through their feelings as per usual. But Sam has been tense, as some monster somewhere must be planning something.

 

\-------------

 

Sam missed the first text alert. Thankfully, iPhones alert you twice.

 

He picked up his phone to see a message from a number Sam didn’t recognise saying:

 

_We have one of your own. Come or else._

 

Sam nearly scoffed. Or else? Do they know who they’re talking to? But what did “one of your own” mean? They don’t have any family left, and let’s be honest here, how many hunters are there left in America?

 

He exited the messages app and called Dean. It was unlikely that he would answer, as he was probably drunk out of his mind already. But it was worth a shot.

 

As expected, the phone rang and rang, but no answer.

 

“Dean I need to talk to you. Something’s – er – come up. Just call me back when you get this.” Sam said, making a voicemail.

 

Sam didn’t even try calling again; he just threw his phone back onto the table and started to look up who could have possibly texted him.

 

\-------------

 

Much to Sam’s surprise, his phone started ringing. And it was even more surprising, it was Dean!

 

“Dean!” Sam picked up the phone.

 

“Hiya Sammy”

 

It was obvious that Dean was drunk, Sam could tell from his slur.

 

“Listen, uh, I just-” Sam began to tell Dean about the text, but Dean interrupted.

 

“Something weird happened”

 

Rolling his eye’s and sighing, Sam asked: “What?”

 

“I got this really weird text that said:”

 

It was Sam’s turn to cut Dean off.

 

“We have one of your own? Come or else?”

 

“We have- What? You know?”

 

“Yes, Dean. I got the same text. That’s why I called you”

 

“Wait, you called me?”

 

Sam sighed into the phone.

 

“Yes. Now just get back here, I think I may have an idea of what’s going on.”

 

There was only the background noise from the bar.

 

“Dean?”

 

There was another moment of silence before Dean’s voice was heard again.

 

“I’ll have to come in tomorrow Sammy. I’ve just opened a tab, and we don’t want that to go to waste do we?” Dean’s words all slurred into each other.

 

Sam released another sigh. This time it was a frustrated sigh as Dean was spending money they don’t exactly have. 

 


	3. The Abandoned House

_Third Person POV_

_~The Next Morning~_

 

Sam awoke to see Dean sleeping in the single bed next to his, and smirked quietly to himself. Dean was drooling.

 

He got up and didn’t bother to try being quiet as he found a bowl from the kitchenette and a cereal box supplied for them.

 

“Mph” Dean made a noise.

 

“Rise and shine,” Sam said sarcastically, spooning the cereal into his mouth.

 

He sat in front of his laptop and began to open all the tabs he had shut the day before, so he could show Dean what he found out about the strange text.

 

Half an hour later, Dean was sitting at the table eating a bowl of cereal. He barely looked conscious.

 

“So, I looked around, I have narrowed it down to a few locations,” Sam said, turning his computer around to show Dean.

 

“Narrowed what down,” Dean replied with the bowl in his hand. He didn’t remember much from last night. Only the massive chunk of money now missing from “his” credit card.

 

“The text? You know, the one saying ‘We have one of your own. Come or else’?” he prompted.

 

When Dean only stared at him, Sam sighed and picked up his phone.

 

After showing him the message, Dean didn’t seem to be concerned.

 

“If they said ‘Or else’, they clearly don’t know who we are.” Dean half-joked with a smirk on his face, placing the bowl back on the table.

 

“Just go and have a shower, and we’ll check out some of the places I’ve listed.” Sam turned the computer back to his-self and nodded to the bathroom door.

 

“Mm,” Dean agreed and made his way to the bathroom, rubbing his head.

 

Sam picked up both bowls and put them in the sink in the kitchenette. But when he came back to the table, he was surprised to find a ripped piece of paper. Upon closer inspection, he found an address on it, and the same message that both Dean and himself had received last night.

 

 _We have one of your own. Come or else_.

 

\-------------

 

Dean drove the Impala down a long road surrounded by rolling hills. He claims that driving is good for hangovers. Sam doubted this, but let him drive anyway.

 

“So, Sammy. Who are we saving?” Dean asked, his voice hinting sarcasm. 

 

“One of our own. Apparently. These people must be desperate for us to come if they actually gave us the address” Sam replied. He was still confused as to _why_ they gave them the address, and what these people actually wanted. If they were people, of course.

 

The address they were given had been one on Sam’s list, and it made finding out where they were meant to go easier. He looked it up on Google Maps, and it was an abandoned house – an ugly one at that.

 

They drove for another fifteen minutes in silence before Dean pulled up in front of the given address. Most drives were like this now, because Dean shut down any mention of the events earlier in the year.

 

“Hey Dean,” Sam started. “Do you maybe think this is a trap?”

 

“Trap? How?” Dean responded. Obviously, Dean’s method of driving did not help his hangover – he still wasn’t thinking straight.  

 

“Well, they gave us the address, and seem pretty keen to get us here. And what if there isn’t actually anyone to save?”

 

“Oh, Sammy. You and your what if’s.” Dean exited the car with a smirk on his face. Sam frowned and joined him at the boot.

 

“What do we think we’re dealing with here? It’s obviously not a spirit or ghost,” Dean wondered aloud as he grabbed a duffel bag and started putting things in it.

 

“My best guess is a demon or another hunter,” Sam suggested. Nodding, Dean put a flask of holy water in the bag. After they had the necessary items, they walked towards the old house.

 

It was still bright outside as they walked into the house, only being around three in the afternoon. But it was dark inside, as the windows were covered with big black drapes.

 

“Don’t think we’ll see a guy in a sheet?” Dean joked, implying that it looked like a haunted house at Halloween.

 

The house’s interior was 1930s Gothic, with patterned wallpaper that has been collecting dust, large wooden panels, and high ceilings. The brothers nearly expected a doll to be sitting and looking at them.

 

“Just had to pick a place that’s like a bloody maze,” Dean grumbled. They had been walking for only five minutes, but it felt like forever to Dean.

They crept down long hallways and looked both ways before turning a corner. Guns in hands, they checked almost every door that wasn’t locked. Sam stopped mid-step when he stood on a creaky floorboard, sending the duffel bag into Dean’s back in front of him.

 

“Umph. Really? Man come on!” he groaned. Realising his mistake, he covered his mouth and glared at Sam.

 

He looked around the left corner of a hallway, when he heard a pained moan come from a door to the right.

 

“ _Please,”_ they heard a voice whimper. It was full of negative emotions, including pain and fear.

 

Dean whacked Sam on the chest, and held his hand there, looking at the door.

 

“You wouldn’t be here right now if you had  gotten yourself over here months ago! But no! You had to make it difficult for both of us!” another voice shrieked, probably louder than they hoped because there was only silence.

 

Dean pointed at the door, and gave him an ‘are you ready look’. Sam rolled his eyes but nodded all the same.

 

Dean kneeled at the door and opened it slightly. He silently Thanked God when it didn’t creak. The small crack prevented him from seeing too much, but he could hear a lot more.

 

“How was I… how was I meant to… come over… over when I’m only-” the weaker voice was cut off by a woman with a sharp tone.

 

“There was a deal! You find a way!” she shrieked before her hand made contact with what Dean assumed was another person. He wasn’t sure yet how old the other person was, as their voice was wobbly and barely understandable.

 

“What do you think?” Sam said in a hushed tone as Dean stood up. He made room, so Sam could have a look himself.

 

“My best guess is a Demon,” he replied in a similar tone.

 

After a minute or so, and Dean had become impatient, he gently pushed his brother’s shoulder. Sam stood up, and Dean mouthed ‘On three’.

 

Counting to three, Sam and Dean kicked open the door for effect.


	4. The Girl

 

_Third Person POV_

 

When the brothers kicked open the door, the woman yelling earlier turned to them and smirked.

 

“Oh, it's a demon alright” Dean whispered to Sam, who rolled his eyes again.

 

The room they had just barged into was rather large. It was a dining room – well, was indeed. A long table was on its side, and a few chairs were flipped on the ground as well. The walls also had the same hideous wallpaper, but it was ripped in some spots.

 

But what caught the brother’s attention was the girl on the floor. Her face was bloody and bruised to match the rest of her body, and she was using the little strength she had left to push herself up, so she wasn’t lying helpless on the floor. She couldn’t have been older than fifteen, and she had a heartbreaking look of pain in her eyes that hurt the brothers deep down.

 

The demon, on the other hand, looked like it just got out of the shower to freshen up. The meat-suit was in her late thirties to early forties, and she wore a long black dress.

 

“Nice to see you could make it, boys,” she said sarcastically, taking a few steps towards them.

 

“Don’t come any closer,” Dean warned, his hand closing around a demon knife in his pocket. His other hand was pointed towards the demon.

 

Sam looked at the girl, who seemed to have given up on consciousness and had passed out. He wanted to be cautious in case she didn’t know what had been torturing her.

 

“What do you want?” Sam demanded, angry at this demon for hurting someone this young. Surely she didn’t deserve it.

 

“All I wanted was for you two to come here.” The demon battered her eyes playfully. Demons enjoyed being coy all too much.

 

“Oh yeah? And what’s the deal with the girl?” Dean asked this time, his hand not leaving the knife’s handle.

 

“Sit down boys, I’m telling you a story,” her voice was full of sarcasm, but the boys didn’t react like she hoped.

 

“Mummy dearest made a deal before she died, and well, now that she’s dead, she can’t for fill the contract. So now it’s up to you two,” she decided to let that much sink in for a minute while she waited for a reaction.

 

“Mum wouldn’t do that,” Dean argued, but he wasn’t so sure of his statement the more he thought about it.

 

Sam, believing it more than what Dean seemed to, asked: “What deal?”

 

“You two have to take this girly around with you for a year. Drop her off anywhere and all three of you die. Easy peasy.” She said like it was nothing. She smirked before walking back towards the girl. She grabbed the poor unconscious girl’s chin and lifted her up, and she opened her eyes a little bit before she was thrown on the ground again.

Sam was confused as to _why_ they had to take this girl in particular with them. His first thought was that the girl herself was a demon, but why would Mary sign a contract like that?

 

It was Dean’s turn to be logical. “Show us the contract, then we’ll consider it.”

 

Rolling her eyes, the demon made a scroll appear in her hands. She handed it to them, and they both scanned the page. Thankfully it wasn’t as long as some of Crowley’s.

 

Both brothers looked for different things. Dean looked for anything about souls, hell, or if this kid was a demon of any kind. Sam, on the other hand, looked for the finer details like how long exactly they had to take her with them, how far away they can go without her, and her name.

 

The contract disappeared in their hands before they could hand it back, and looked back to the demon.

 

She smirked again, then declared: “I’ll see you two in a year to collect her.”, then disappeared.

 

Sam instantly dropped his weapons and ran towards the girl who still seemed to be unconscious, and Dean followed suit.

 

“I don’t think we should take her to a hospital,” Dean thought aloud as Sam shook her a little to see if she would wake, but her eye stayed shut.

 

Sam quickly checked her pulse, and thankfully it was beating. Slow, but it was still beating.

 

“Dean. She’s been tortured, and you feel her pulse. She needs proper medical attention,” Sam argued.

 

“Nah, we can fix her up. It’s not like we haven’t done it before. And think of the questions we would get asked if we brought her in.” Dean finished the argument and stood up.

 

“Come on Sammy, I’ve got some supplies in the trunk,” he turned and started to walk out f the room, before turning back to Sam who was picking her up. “Make sure you put a sheet down before putting her in the car.”

 

Sam sighed as he picked the girl up, and followed Dean outside again.

 

\-------------

 

The girl didn’t have any serious injuries, just cuts and bruises that weren’t going away anytime soon. Sam and Dean were able to clean up some of the cuts and put bandages on some of the deeper ones. Because she had slept through all of that, they laid her down in the backseat – after putting a sheet down, of course.

 

They were about twenty minutes away from Ohio before she woke up. Groaning, she attempted to push herself up before her arms gave way and she fell on her face.

 

“Whoa, easy their tiger,” Dean said, looking at her through the rear vision mirror.

 

She tried again and was successful. Now sitting up, she looked around the car, taking in her surroundings. She rubbed her head, trying to figure out where she was.

 

“Where am I?” she croaked, her voice hoarse.

 

“Well, you’re in my car,” Dean said truthfully.

 

“I figured that much, Dumbass. Where am I?” rolling her eyes, annoyed. She glared at Dean through the mirror.

 

He recoiled a bit at being called ‘Dumbass’ by a stranger - let alone a teenage girl - but soon regained his speech as Sam chuckled.

 

“About twenty minutes from Ohio,” he answered properly this time.   

 

Her eyes widened in shock. “Ohio? As in, America, Ohio?”

 

Sam turned around to face her, and Dean frowned before saying: “Yes...”

 

“Shit,” she mumbled, just loud enough for the brothers to hear.

 

It was quiet for a while, as they all thought about the last conversation as the only sound heard was the low rumble of the Impala, until the girl spoke up again.

 

“Hey, thanks for fixing me up.” She said, looking at the various bandages she had on her limbs.

 

“Not a problem,” Sam replied this time.

 

There was another awkward silence, and the girl didn’t try breaking it again.


	5. I know about… the supernatural

_Third Person POV_

“So, your name is Harriet right?” Sam spoke up while they neared a town in Ohio. It was the first time any of them had spoken since the girl thanked them.

 

“Uh, yeah. Well, I go by Harry,” she answered

 

_Harry’s POV_

 

De- The shorter one looked at the taller in confusion. “How did you know that?”

 

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe he looked the contract, dumbass!” I leaned over the front seat.

 

The one driving looked a bit taken aback at being called a ‘dumbass’, while the taller one extended his arm, suggesting he wanted me to shake it.

 

So I shook his hand, and he smiled a genuine smile at me, that looked like the product of sunshine and puppies. “I’m Sam. And this is my brother Dean,” he introduced himself.

 

I smiled back as I said: “Nice to meet you. Thanks for telling me your name, because I was about to start calling you Moose!” I joked, not quite realising the significance of the nickname.

 

The brothers shifted uncomfortably, and guilt instantly hit me. “I’m sorry,” I spoke with a small voice.

 

“No, no its ok. It's just- a friend used to call me that. He’s- he’s in a better place now,” Sam smiled at me again, but it seemed to be more forced than the last one. I couldn’t really see Dean’s face because he was looking at the road, but I imagined he was staring at it hard.

 

A little bit of light filled Sam’s eyes again as he asked “But the question we should be asking is, why do people keep calling me moose?” he started laughing, and I saw it as an invitation to laugh too. Dean, however, seemed to be a killjoy and turned on the radio. ACDC’s Thunderstruck instantly filled the car.

 

“This is ACDC right?” I queried. Dean finally smiled, and replied with a loud “Yep!”

 

“What song is it?” he decides to question me.

 

“Thunderstruck!” I answered without missing a beat.

 

“What year?” he asked. Oh, so we're going to play this game were we?

 

“1990,” I decided to impress him a little bit more. “10th of September. First album appearance was in ‘The Razors Edge’”

 

Dean’s mouth opened a little, and I felt proud of myself. Desperate to change the subject and keep his status as the king of rock knowledge, he said “You might wanna keep your head down kid. We’re about to enter a town, and well, you’re not the prettiest sight at the moment.”

 

“Gee thanks,” I said sarcastically, even though I did lie back down on the sheet. I knew I had dried blood in my hair, and I felt hideous all over. Hopefully wherever we’re going has a shower with shampoo and conditioner.

\-------------

 

“Are you hungry kid? Keep your head down still, were in the middle of town,” Dean asked a few minutes later.

 

“Uh, yes. I feel like I haven’t eaten in a month. And this ‘kid’ has a name,” I instantly shot back.

 

Ignoring my comment, Dean continued. “What do you want to eat?”

 

“Are you going to the servo?” I asked.

 

“The what?” Sam and Dean asked in unison, making me snort.

 

“Never mind. Can you get pie anywhere here?” I asked, and Sam nearly choked on air.

 

“Sammy, are you ok?” Dean asked, putting a hand on his brother’s shoulder.

 

“Uh, yeah. Just she likes pie and you like-, actually never mind,” Sam managed to wheeze between coughs.

 

“We’ll get some pies then!” Dean actually seemed cheerful for the first time since I met him, which wasn’t that long ago, but judging by the look on Sam’s face, it was the first time in a while.

 

It didn’t take long for them to get back, and when the two came back to the car, I frowned. “You know I didn’t mean dessert pie right?”

 

“Uh, what other pie would you have meant?” Dean asked. I couldn’t tell if he was annoyed or disappointed.

 

“A meat pie? No? Never mind this pie is fine,” I dismissed their odd looks.

 

They came and sat in the front, as they handed me a few slices on a plastic plate. Good. So they know what its like to be hungry.

 

“So uh, how old are you exactly? 12?” Dean asked. I could tell he wanted to understand how I knew so much about ACDC. I guess neither of them have figured out where I’m from then. I know Dean hasn’t taken much notice, but Sam has definitely noticed something.

 

“I’m fourteen, thank you very much,” I scowled at being called a twelve-year-old, even though I knew he was just stirring.

 

“And how long have you been fourteen?” he questioned again.

 

“Ten years,” I deadpanned. “One-month dumbass. What does it matter?” I’ve decided to call him dumbass now casually.

“Well, we’ve gotta take you around with us for a year, so I was kinda hoping that we would end up with a fifteen-year-old not a fourteen-year-old,” he said, not missing a beat. It was almost like he had planned this conversation.

 

“Speaking of that year,” Sam began, and I could almost _hear_ Dean roll his eyes. “What do know about the, uh, deal?” he seemed to quiz, ignoring Dean.  

 

“Enough I guess. I had to sign my own,” I finished my pie slices, and laid on my back.

 

“What?!” Sam asked, confusion and a hint of concern visible in his voice.

 

“Well, I was tricked into signing,” I sighed. Apparently I had not blocked out the memory as well as I’d hoped.

 

Sam turned to face me, making a face that did not hide his disbelief. “How does that even work? And what exactly know about… about demons?” he spoke the first part strongly, but his voice faltered afterwards.

 

I couldn't see his face very well, but Dean almost glared at his brother. I could only assume that it was because of Sam’s question. I mean, what kind of kid knows about that stuff?

 

“As long as you sign it willingly,” I began answering his question. “You don’t need to know what its for, and I thought it was a school excursion note.” I heard Dean scoff.

 

“And as for what I know… I know all of it. Demons, ghosts, even angels. If its supernatural, I probably know about it,” I confessed. Not hearing a response, I suddenly wished I was sitting in front of them so I could see their expressions.

 

Dean was the first to speak. “And how exactly does a thirteen-year-old know anything about, uh, that?”

 

“I’m fourteen. And it’s in my blood,”

 

After another silence, I figured they didn’t understand how the daughter of two accountants knows about the things that go bump in the night.

 

“Did I mention I’m adopted?”

 

“Screw this,” Dean mumbled under his breath. “I’m booking us into a motel.” And he drove off, to the motel just around the corner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is trash :(
> 
> But hey, I told you 6-12 chapters in December, and its only the 8th! More to come! ;)


	6. Game Night

_Harry’s POV_

“I dibs first shower,” I yelled as we walked into the booked motel room. But I stopped just before I opened the bathroom door.

 

“I just realised,” I started, slowly turning around to face Sam and Dean, my hand still on the doorknob. “These are my only clothes,” I gestured to my torn and bloody body.

 

“And?” obviously Dean didn’t get the memo.

 

“Could one of you run down to a target or someplace and get me something that allows me to walk in public without getting stared at?” I asked with a bit more sass than needed, and the brothers looked at each other.

 

“Sam will go!” Dean was all too happy to sign his brother up for the job, and Sam didn’t complain – thankfully.

 

“What do you want?” Sam sighed, as he caught the keys Dean threw at him.

 

“Uh, just get me something plaid, and some jeans? Just look and guess what would fit me,” I smiled at him, genuinely grateful.

 

The boys shared another look before Sam left, and I hopped in the shower. And Boy, was it good to wash all of the blood stains off, and out of my hair. Although the soap made some of the deeper cuts sting a bit.

 

\-------------

 

Third Person POV

 

About an hour later, Harry emerged from the bathroom, donned with a long-sleeved plaid shirt and light denim jeans. She had re-bandaged all of her cuts and washed and dried her hair, which was now up in a loose ponytail.

 

“That felt good,” Harry announced, as she closed the bathroom door.

 

However, neither Sam or Dean said a word, as they were both staring at her. They were both thinking the same thing too. Now that she was all cleaned up, they could see what she looked like.

 

Her hair was almost the exact same colour as Dean’s, dirty blonde. It was a couple of shades lighter, however. And her eyes stood out a lot more with the red plaid shirt. They were forest green. The brothers couldn’t help but notice the similarities not just in appearance but in her personality.

 

“Hello?” Harry waved her hand in front of herself, trying to catch their attention, waving away their thoughts.

 

“Yeah, um, what?” Sam refocused, then nudged Dean. She gave them a funny look.

 

Clapping his hands and ignoring her look, Sam reached over and grabbed the stack of colourful boxes on the table that had not been there before Harry had a shower.

 

“Because you don't know us well-” he started, but he was cut off.

 

“Yeah, if I didn’t know you were hunters I’d think you were axe-murderers,” Harry joked, although she was still nervous about the fact that she had to live with these two grown men, who looked a little scary and first glance too.

 

“Yes. But we don’t know you very well either. So I rented some board games for some… for some bonding I guess?” Sam continued and gestured to the pile of boxes on his lap.

 

“Sam, is this necessary?” Dean groaned, obviously not wanting to spend his afternoon playing games. Harry didn't seem to like it either.

 

“Really? Isn’t there some other way we could do this?” she complained, plonking herself down onto the couch.

 

“Wow, I thought at least one of you would be on my side. Come on, we're doing this. You’ll enjoy it! Both of you!” Sam stood up and placed the games on the small dining table, then gestured for the other two to follow.

 

Harry didn’t feel like arguing, and if she did this wrong, her whole year will be bad. So she let herself sit down at the table, and Sam smiled so genuinely that it lit up the room, and she just had to smile too.

 

Harry’s POV

 

It took a little more effort to get Dean to play. But then Sam threw in ‘No more pie’, which got Dean shuffling over to sit down. But he still muttered ‘You’re not the boss of me’. I tried really hard not to laugh because Dean was older than Sam. It came out as a snort instead.

 

“Ooookay. We’ll play… let's destroy whatever relationship we have now and play monopoly?” Sam suggested, laughing.

 

\-------------

 

It took Dean a while to settle in, but soon he was playing and having the best time. I had to assume this was the first time in a while because of the way Sam was looking at him. We had played every game reception had – including cards – and now we were playing truth or dare.

 

“Dare,” I answered Sam. I learned that you say Dare with Sam because he can’t think of very embarrassing things, but his truths are very deep. Dean, however, was the opposite. Lord help you if you say Dare with Dean.

 

“Um… Hang out your bloody clothes on someone else’s clothesline?” he seemed to say is as a question rather than a command.

 

“In the middle of the day?” I argued before looking outside. Which was pitch black. “Strewth!” I laughed, standing up.

 

“Hey don’t worry, there are no cameras at this motel,” Sam reassured me, even though I was fine.

 

I grabbed the bloody clothes and jumped out the back window. Thank God it was only a ground floor motel. Instead of choosing the one next to ours and risking getting caught, I ran down about five or so rooms.

 

I looked back, and Sam and Dean’s heads were sticking out of the window watching with idiotic grins on their faces. I grabbed a handful of pegs and began hanging up my clothes, snickering to myself a little.

 

Just as I put the last peg on, a light in the apartment next to this one turned on, and I saw a figure walk to the window. I bolted for the bushes behind and just made it just as an old woman looked out the window. Thankfully it was dark so no one could see that the clothes were bloody, as all the woman would have seen was someone’s normal wet washing.

 

The woman turned around and walked back inside, turning the light off. I looked back to our room, to see Sam and Dean hurriedly gesturing for me to come back. So with one more glance around, I sprinted back and jumped through the window.

 

“Thanks a lot for that Dare, Mate,” I said sarcastically and breathlessly from adrenaline, lying on the floor.

 

“Australian!” Sam exclaimed, clapping his hands once.

 

“What?” Dean and I replied in unison, and I sat up.

 

“Harry’s Australian! I couldn’t tell at first, and your throat has been a little raspy but some of the words you’ve been saying has made it sink in!” it was funny how pleased he was with himself.

 

“Congratulations, Sam. I was betting with myself who would get it first – and my money was on you,” I joked, although I was thinking Sam would get it first.

 

“Hey!” Dean called out.

 

“Come on dumbass, let's keep playing. I believe it's my turn?” we all sat back down at the table, and I looked Dean in the eyes.

 

“Truth or Dare, Dean?” I mentioned earlier who you say Truth or Dare for, but I didn’t say which one is the better option for me. To tell you the truth, I’m a little brutal at this game, because I know just what buttons to push. And this game is really good to play when you’re trying to figure something out about someone.

 

“Truth,” Dean answered confidently.

 

“Who do you miss the most?” It was a general question. It could have been someone they helped the last hunt, or maybe a family member in a different state, or even a passed family member. I could have said 'what' not 'who', but that wouldn’t have made a difference.

 

Sam widened his eyes and shook his head at me urgently, but it's not like I can change it now. Dean’s face fell. His eyes became glassy and his smirk turned into a frown.

 

Standing up, he bore his eyes into me as he said “How about you tell us how you really know about hunting? Because it’s obvious that you lied.” Dean was a scary person I decided.

 

“I didn’t lie,” my voice was quiet and small.

 

“Bullshit, kid. You don’t get to waltz into our lives, asking questions like that. In fact, Sam and I should be interrogating you, because there is something not right with you,” I tried to make myself smaller, because Dean was tall compared to a 5’4” me, and even when you were on a chair, a little higher than the ground, you feel threatened.

 

“Dean,” Sam tried to stop his brother. He knew that Dean would do something bad soon because he was drunk again.

 

“No, Sam, don't ‘Dean,’ me. I’m going to bed, and you’re on the couch,” he pointed to me and all I could do was nod.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't too bad, but the movie inside my head looked better than what this does! 
> 
> Did you figure out what nationality Harry was before Sam? If so let me know in the comments!
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks!
> 
> Maddie :)


	7. The Nightmare and Day

_Third Person POV_

Sam and Dean woke up in the middle of the night to screams and pleads. Dean grabbed his gun, and waited a moment to figure out what was making the noise, but Sam had already figured it out. He had rushed to the couch in an instant, and started shaking whatever was on it.

 

It was Harry. She was whimpering and screaming, and mumbling variations of “Please stop”.

 

“Ahh!” Harry screamed one last time before she woke up, breathing heavily.

 

“Get the hell away from me!” she demanded, still a little delirious from waking up.

 

“Harry- Harry its me, you’re fine now. Don’t worry,” Sam consoled her, and Dean was impressed.

Harry tried to sit up a bit on the couch, still breathing heavily while Sam rubbed her arm. “What happened?” he asked gently, still crouching on the floor.

 

“Nightmare… of… when- mum- no demon… tortured… me…” she managed to say between heavy breaths. Harry was very close to a panic attack.

 

Dean spoke up. “Psh, that's nothing. I’m going back to bed,”

 

“Dean,” Sam spoke harshly. “May I talk to my brother for a minute?” he asked Harry, and when she nodded with her eyes closed and arms wrapped around herself, he walked to the other side of the room with Dean.

 

“What?” Dean started the conversation.

 

“What? Dean you can’t just say that to a person!”

 

“Dude she knows about the supernatural stuff; how bad could her nightmares be? Come on I’ve been to hell, you’ve been to hell, I think she’ll be fine,” Dean thought he was being reasonable.

 

“Are you even listening to yourself? She’s 14! And she doesn’t know what real hell’s like, but what she just went through probably feels like it. And from what I’ve gathered, she was tortured by a demon wearing her _mother_ , Dean. Her _mother_ ,” Sam struggled to keep his voice in a whisper.

 

“And what are we going to do about it, Sam? You remember your nightmares, how are we going to help this kid?” Dean knew his was being reasonable now.

 

“Well, for starters she is going to sleep in a bed tonight. I can sleep on the couch. I don’t really care what you do right now, but I’m going to make a couple of mugs of hot cocoa and talk to her, try to calm her down,”

 

“Sure. You do you and I’ll be sleeping if you need me,” Dean shuffled back to his bed and closed his eyes. But he couldn’t sleep. Or rather wouldn’t.

 

Sam made the drinks and sat down next to Harry, who had wrapped the blanket around herself.

 

“Hey,” Sam said softly as he passed the mug to her. She had tear stains on her cheeks, but at least she wasn’t crying anymore.

 

“Thanks,” she croaked out in a voice similar to the one that they had first heard from her.

 

“It’ll be okay, Hare,” Sam rubbed his hand on her back, and she tried to think about how big it was instead of her dream.

 

After a little while, and Harry had no tears or cocoa left, Sam offered her his bed for the night.

“No, I couldn’t. You’d never fit on this couch! I barely do!” she argued, but Sam was having none of it. So they switched their doona’s on the bed and couch, and Sam sat next to her until she fell asleep.

 

\-------------

 

It didn’t really take long for everyone to get ready – they had all slept in their clothes.

 

“Now as much as we enjoyed last night, my brother and I have work to do,” Sam said to Harry, who was watching something on TV.

 

“Work as in lying about being the FBI?” she responded in a monotone, not looking up from the set. The brothers exchanged a worried glance.

 

“Yep I know. Sounds awesome, sign me up!” her face lit up and she practically bounced on the couch to face them.

 

“Nah uh,” Dean’s face was cold and hard. “You’re coming, but you’re staying in the car.” He spoke in a way that made you scared to talk. So Harry simply nodded.

 

In the car on the way to the victim’s wife’s house (where her husband was killed) Sam explained everything they already knew about the case to Harry, which she was very thankful for. She also noticed Dean’s cold stare aimed in her direction in the review mirror.

 

“All of our evidence says shapeshifter or ghoul,” Sam showed Harry his laptop in the car. Harry studied the file Sam had made, frowning at certain parts.

 

“So you don’t know which one?” she asked quizzically.

 

“Well, no. It’s hard to tell before you check out the crime scene and meet the suspected monster,” it was Sam’s turn to frown. Although it was because he thought Harry knew more than what she seemed too.

 

“Wait a minute, you think that Mrs. Lawton killed her husband? You think _she’s_ the monster?” Harry was looking at the woman’s face on the screen, in a file called ‘Suspect’.

 

“Well, yes. Looks can be deceiving,” Sam leaned into the back seat to look at the screen. “Also, every victim was missing their left pointer finger after they were murdered,”

 

“So, ghoul then?” Harry summed it up.

 

“No, actually. It’s possible that she is a shifter because- “

 

“Because what? Since when does a shapeshifter keep a body part?” Harry folded her arms over her chest.

 

“Some have been known to keep souvenirs,” Sam said after a short pause. Harry cringed at the thought.

 

“Okay then, tell me how it goes,” she sighed, handing over the again laptop and sitting back in the car seat just as Dean pulled up in front of a house.

 

Dean told Harry to “stay”, and she gave up on trying to be nice. She glared at him and said “I don’t actually understand your effing problem with me!”

 

However, Dean just ignored her and scoffed. He muttered “effing” under his breath to mock her, and Harry heard.

 

She watched Sam glared at Dean as well, as they walked to the front door dressed in suits.

 

 

_Sam’s POV_

“So I heard you’ve given ‘It’ a nickname,” Dean said once he ran the doorbell.

 

“Dean, Harry’s not an ‘It’,” I responded. I get that he’s still hurting, but he can’t do this to Harry. It’s not fair. I _saw_ how much fun he had last night before she asked that question.

 

“Don’t get attached,” Dean rocked back and forth on his heals, and turned his head away from me.

 

“You know what Dean? I’m sick of-” I turned my whole body to face him, but I was interrupted by the door opening.

 

Dean didn’t miss a beat. “Hello, Mrs. Lawton? FBI. Agents Doyle and Moffatt,” He held up his badge and I followed suit. “We’re here about your husband’s murder,” he said after the woman nodded.

 

“Yes, yes, I’ve been expecting the authorities. Come in,” she sounded older than what she looked.

 

Just after we walked in and she was about to close the door, she pointed outside. “Is that your car?” she asked.

 

“Yes Mam. A ‘67 Chevy Impala,” Dean answered, thinking she meant she liked it.

 

“Yes yes dear, but there’s a girl in there,” she left her finger pointing, but she stared at both of us, almost angry.

 

“Uh, she’s my sister,” I spoke up. It was what first came to my head. The woman looked at me quizzically.

 

“She’s on school break and has no one else to look after her,” I lied naturally. It made sense, if you thought about it for a while.

 

I could tell she didn’t approve of the age gap somehow. But it’s only like, what? 20 years… Oh. Also the fact that school started a month ago.

 

“Well,” the woman took a deep breath. “Don’t leave her out there, bring her in!”

 

So I quickly walked outside, and explained what was going on to Harry as we walked up to the door.

 

When we walked in, we found Dean already sitting on the couch talking to the woman.  

 

_Harry’s POV_

Sam had explained the situation to me in the car, then explained why I was coming into the house. Pretending to be his sister shouldn’t be too hard right? Ha ha.

 

Sam sat down next to Dean, leaving me standing in the doorway feeling awkward. As per normal.

 

“Don’t just stand there dear, come take a seat!” the woman smiled at me, and I wondered how on earth she could have killed her husband.

 

So I sat down on an armchair that was furthest from the door, but closest to Sam. I wondered what was better.

 

“Now Mrs. Lawton, you said you were picking up your laundry from the Laundromat at 5:30pm, which is when the autopsy said he was killed?” Dean asked. I was impressed about how professional he was, despite the fact that he was drunk twelve hours ago.

 

“Yes, we don’t own a washing machine,” Mrs. Lawton responded, and I tried my hardest not to frown. In a house like this? Who wouldn’t have a washing machine.

 

“I a quiet surprised that she’s _your_ sister,” Mrs. Lawton looked to Sam. “She looks a lot like your partner,” she then looked at Dean.

 

“Uh, yeah. We get that a lot,” Sam said, only realising the resemblance now.

 

“I thought you were on school break, but it’s the middle of the week and school started a month ago,” she looked to me now, and I shifted uncomfortably in my seat.

 

“My Peter is home-schooled; he was bullied too much. Are you home-schooled dear?” she looked at me expectantly.

 

“Uh, yeah. I’m normally embarrassed about it so Sam says that I’m on school break,” I was glad she gave me the lie. I nodded towards Sam, ignoring the glare I was getting from Dean.

 

“Getting back to why we’re here, did your husband have any affairs Mrs. Lawton?” Dean asked, annoyed that the conversation went to me. He didn’t even want me in here, let alone talking.

 

“Heavens no. I was the one who had the affairs. And I regret it to this day,” she looked solemnly into the distance past Sam’s head.

 

But suddenly she snapped back to ask me another question. “Were you bullied at school? Is that why you are home-schooled?” she asked.

 

“Uh, I’d rather not talk about it,” I tried so hard to avoid Dean’s cold stare, but it made me too uncomfortable. “Actually Mam, may I please use your bathroom?”

 

“Sure thing dear. Peter darling, can you please take this lovely lady to the restroom?”  she called out to her son, and a chubby red-headed twelve-year-old shuffled into the room.

 

“Follow me,” he said, gazing at me. Why is this house so uncomfortable?

 

He took me around the staircase to a hallway. Along the walls were numerous family photos, all seeming to be from different vacations.

 

“As you can tell, we go on holidays a lot because I’m home-schooled. She did tell you that right? Anyway the bathrooms in there,” he spoke along the way, and finally stopping outside a door which he opened seconds before I reached the doorknob.

 

I nodded a thank you and quickly walked in, and double checked I locked the door behind me. Sitting down on the toilet seat, I decided to think about the case, and go over everything Sam told me.

 

_Two days ago, Mrs. Lawson’s husband was stabbed in the middle of his stomach. He was also missing his right ring finger, which had not been missing before his death. Three weeks before that, Mr. Lawson’s brother was killed the exact same way, including the missing finger. Mrs. Lawson seems to be the main suspect to be the monster because she has been close with both men, in fact she had a ‘Fling’ with her husband’s brother. Sam and Dean think that Mrs. Lawson could be a ghoul or shapeshifter because if you search Kaitlyn Lawson you get hundreds of results just from Ohio State. I am more leaning towards a ghoul because of the missing body part, but why wouldn’t the ghoul take over-_

I heard I knock on the door. “Are you okay?” Peter yelled.

 

Why was he still there? “Uh, yeah? Just give me a few minutes!” I yelled back, uncomfortable. Coming here was regrettable.

 

I was true to my word. I flushed the toilet and hurried myself out of there, and much to my dismay the kid was still there.

 

I put my head down and began walking back to the living room –I’d memorised the path _just in case_. But then a pair of feet stopped me by being there. From instinct I took a step back.

 

“Look, I don’t normally do this but-“ the kid took another step forwards, making me step back once I looked up again. “But I can’t deny the chemistry!” and with that he darted forward to my mouth, and it hadn’t even been three short seconds before I pushed him off.

 

“Listen, kid. I don’t think you even know what chemistry is, and your too young for it. Too young for me. I don’t even want to do any of- uh- that!” I wiped my mouth and screwed up my nose. Walking around him, I went back to the living room and this time I sat closer to the front door next to Dean. Who frowned.

 

For the rest of the ‘interrogation’ I stayed silent and the woman didn’t ask any more questions. Her son was nowhere to be seen either, which I was happy about.

 

Sam and Dean thanked the woman who showed us out. On my way past, however, she grabbed my shoulder as an elderly person does, but her grip was painfully tight. To be nice, I forced a smile in her direction.

 

I turned around just before I hoped into the car to look at the woman standing in the door way. Her son was now there, and he was saying something to her. This may seem cliché, but I can lip read. And looked like something along the lines of “I got her” or “I got some,”

 

Disgusting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah shit I should be the poster-girl for shitty writing BECAUSE GUESS WHAT THIS IS   
> sorry I'm tired goodnight and thanks for reading my dudes :)


	8. Harry's Story is Changing!!!

So I’ve been plotting lately, and I’ve decided to change some things to smooth out some bumps. This does mean that I’m re-writing the beginning of the Vein’s series.

It involves changes of when it is set, where, and whos alive when. It should be good!!!!

Thanks for reading!! :)

 

P.S: you should expect new chapters by the end of the month. Might seem long, but I'm setting myself realistic goals because I do have other things to do, including multiple other fics. 


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